Loss of a loved dream
by Jauney boy
Summary: (Real world) A direct look at a typical night of a brokenhearted individual, relishing on better memories. More of a personal free style vent.


Blood red, the colour slightly tinted naturally bright green eyes as they scanned over old screenshotted messages on a screen again and again. They had been re-read more times than remembered, but the feelings remained. Mostly pain…

Shutting off the device, he sighed as it was placed on the nightstand. Rubbing his sore eyes, he fell back onto his bed and wondered if his brain was hopefully not going to flood with memories of the past like every night since the _incident_ as he preferred to call it. Refusing to use the certain phrase that anybody else in his situation would've used. Though, anybody else in his place would've most likely recovered by now.

But not him.

It baffled him to no end, he always found it confusing how others were able to go through the process where he downright refused to even believe that this was the end. Most of his companions had their fair share of this kind of experience, and they seemed to only hurt for a few days. Perhaps their emotional strength was something worth more bragging about than his physical strength he liked to boast.

But now, there was nothing to be prideful for. Nothing to feel good about.

It was difficult, when he still felt like everything in his world was stripped away from him. His smile, confidence, and especially happiness. All gone in the blink of a fucking eye, just like that.

But those things weren't destroyed, they were stolen. Taken away by her the moment she shattered his heart into pieces only she could put back together.

Sitting back up, he grabbed his phone again to check is she had said something. _Anything._ They were at least at basis of just being friends, not completely abandoning each other's lives. Though the hurt was still there, no matter how civil he tried to be, no matter how many casual conversations they had. He had never felt a greater desire for conversation in his entire life up until now, which is saying something, considering his introverted tendencies. But as he had expected (and feared), there was nothing. She was most likely asleep at this ungodly hour anyway, which just means he wasn't worthy of her time no matter the point of day. At least that's what he felt, and eventually began to believe. He sat the phone back down and rubbed his face, scratching away the old dried tears and fresh wet ones. He was truly hurt.

Checking the calendar before putting his phone away, he noticed they were about a week away from that Day. The day he felt eternal happiness. The day he felt all the rainy clouds leave his life as he was starting to love the sunshine introduced to him. The day he felt like he could fly.

It had been just about two years since that special day, probably the best he's had in his whole life.

But now, to both parties it was just another holiday. He used to find it fitting, considering it was the most happiest time of the year. It was only appropriate she made the move that she did. However, now he only sees it as one of the most painful days ever, as the memories always found a way to flood his mind no matter how hard he wants it to stop. It was strange, he never thought he'd turn out to be a Scrooge.

Sighing again for what was probably the millionth time that day, he decided to leave the phone for now. It's not like she be talking to him again anytime soon, nor would he be expecting any check ups from friends to see how he was. They already knew, they all knew. How he feels, how he still feels. But as far as he could remember, they were not all that supportive anyway. Most of them just dismissed his pain quite easily, saying he was just an over sentimental baby that should've moved on already. Like it was the most easiest thing ever. But nothing really felt easy these days…

Obviously no sleep for tonight, considering the current late time and he was still in street clothes. There was nothing to do, at least nothing that could distract him long and good enough to at least suppress the flashbacks. He contemplated writing, as he always did from time to time. But just shook his head at the thought. Writing his stories just lost the luster, especially when all his motivation and drive to write good had vanished the moment she left. Most of the stories were meant for her anyway, themes and ideas that appealed to her, and it filled him with ecstasy every time she was happy to see his new work. And they would read and read together online, giving the characters voices and bringing the written story to life.

It was honestly like living in a fantasy, but like every dream it just couldn't last could it? He no longer had ideas swarming around his head like he used to, no longer had prompts or even fully planned ideas in his mind. The only thing he could ever think about was just her, and it killed him inside every time. Anytime he opened up his laptop and was met with a blank page, he would usually leave it blank as he tended to breakdown before even finishing a sentence. _I need your voice to tell me to do a good job, I need your smile to let me know everything would be okay._

Holding back another wave of tears, he shook his head in attempt to shake off the upcoming flashbacks. Christ, at this point it just hurt to live. Thinking back to his colleagues, he pondered their pasts. How could they handle it? How could it ever be easy? To emotionally invest in another person's soul and heart, to trust them fully, to have them be there for you not because they felt like they had to, but because they were just so simply kind, to have somebody save you from the fears of living a lonely life, to live thousands of miles away in a different country, and yet be so impactful on said lonely life.

And they just go ahead and ultimately destroy everything you had together, how could you ever look beyond that? How can you look beyond heartbreak? How can you just start to not love a person, is it possible to just simply un-love..?

He already figured he'd probably never know, not that he cared. He was never going to forget her. _Or all the happy feelings she brought every time she said good morning/night, the pure bliss you lived in whenever you two talked and laughed for hours into the late night, or even the times your heart would beat as hard as ever whenever you two got intimate…_

Another head shake, trying to eliminate that voice that keeps reminding him of his old happier self. But to no avail this time. The edges of his lips threatening to frown, how tight his eyes shut, how achy his chest started to feel, how all the vivid and detailed memories came back, it was all too much. He gave in to sadness, again.

He submitted into tears, curling up onto his bed as he cried there. But that wasn't anything new. He was just glad it was crying, as opposed to having another hour long panic attack that left him devoid of energy. But both crying and the attacks were still painful, not sure which was worse.

Hopefully he wouldn't get another nosebleed from crying too hard this time.

Hopefully he could cry long enough into his pillow and finally fall asleep.

Hope

It was all that he had left. The only thing to cling onto. The only thing that made sure he kept telling himself that anything was possible and had him believe the low chance of her coming back to him. The only thing that justified getting out of bed, getting dressed, and eating. Hope was the only thing that made him shower, the only thing making sure he brushed his teeth, the only thing that kept him from just walking out of his house and jumping off the closest water tower.

It was odd that those things were easily accessible to the public. But as tempting as that all sounded, he knew it wouldn't do him any good. Every day just feels like another reason to just go and do it. Quick and painless. No more panic attacks, no more flashbacks, and no more torture ever time he sees her with another guy. But no. He still had some kick in him. Just not as much, compared to the majority of 2016..

 _You sit here a prisoner for life in your own demise, your past gone and future nothing, and you are not any braver or more stronger than any one of those._

He stopped sobbing about a half hour later, thankfully no blood this time. But that didn't stop the feelings. Without realizing it, this was the moment he would finally get some shut eye. Just not any pleasant rest.

Before Roman's mind succumbed to sleep, his mind was still drifting on Neo, just like every single night.

 _I miss you baby girl..._


End file.
